Deconstruct, Rebuild
by tiltingaxis
Summary: Every space in this apartment is a memory, filled with the prints that she's left behind, and every morning is a struggle.


**A/N: I should probably give you the angst warning right now. It's pretty major**.

* * *

He comes into the room to find her curled up in a fetal position on the bed. She's completely still, even as he softly calls out her name. Finn holds in a sigh. He's tired. He's so, so tired, and the tie hanging around his neck feels like a noose that's choking him into slow death.

"Rachel," he whispers again as he slowly makes his way towards her, until he's standing before her prone body. Her eyes are wide open, dried tear tracks streaked across her features as she stares into space. He kneels down on the ground, kneeling as close to her as possible, one hand caressing the side of her face.

"Baby," he says quietly. "Come back."

She turns to him, eyes vacant for a few moments before she returns, her focus on him as she shifts. He tries to smile, tries to pull his lips upward into a reassuring expression, but she holds out a hand to cover his mouth.

"Don't," she whispers and he freezes. Her fingers brush over his lips to move down his neck, curling in the knot on his tie before she loosens it for him, giving him some breathing space. "Don't try to be strong."

Their eyes meet, and it takes too much out of him to hold her gaze, her eyes shows too much of the familiar pain that's still aching in his chest, so he looks away. His palm rests on her neck, thumb pressing just a little to feel the pulse jolting underneath her skin. He closes his eyes as he inhales.

"I'm tired Finn. I want to sleep," she says quietly. He shakes his head, leaning forward to press his lips on her forehead as he lets out a shaky breath.

"Okay."

He gets up and heads to the bathroom, and the man he sees in the mirror is unrecognizable to him. Who is this man with the unkempt beard on his face, with his sunken eyes and his dishevelled appearance?

His eye catches the dirt in his fingernails, and he closes the door shut, sagging against it as he slides down, legs sprawled on the ground as he tries to muffle his cries with his fist.

Xxx

It's been almost two weeks, the door next to their bedroom still stays firmly closed, and he doesn't want to acknowledge it, but he won't pass it by without holding his breath in, can't stop his knees from shaking or his eyes from welling up.

Every space in this apartment is a memory, filled with the prints that she's left behind, and every morning is a struggle.

He's on his phone with his mother, looking around the bare living room before he leans back against the couch to stare up at the bare ceiling.

"How's Rachel holding up Finn?" her voice asks quietly, worried. It takes him a while to answer, eyes straying towards the open bedroom, to the figure still lying prone on the bed.

"She's not."

Xxx

Rachel won't eat, refuses to swallow anything down unless he forces her, and he's so, so worried, but he's angry too. He's livid and _furious_ and he wants to scream, scream, _scream_. He wants to yell in her face, to force her to get up and get on because he can't do this alone. He _can't_.

But he catches her eyes sometimes, and the perpetual anguish is so acute, his words die in his throat and all the energy it takes to fuel his anger saps away, and he's putting up the spoon to her lips again, quietly coaxing her to open her mouth.

Xxx

It's been a month, and she doesn't leave the house. She doesn't answer the phone. But she gets up from the bed sometimes, and she reaches out for him in the morning, quietly knotting his tie before he leaves for work.

They don't touch. They can't seem to, without flinching and inadvertently pulling away, and the only time he feels her is in the morning when she fixes his tie and her fingers brush against his skin as she tells him goodbye. His hands always stay on his side though, stationary.

He never touches her.

Xxx

She refuses to see anyone.

Her fathers are worried because she won't answer their calls, and they tell him like they expect him to do something about it.

He tries, once. He doesn't get further than "maybe you should talk to them," before she's freezing him out and he gives up.

It's Kurt who finally breaks through the barrier. He comes home from work one day to a lot of yelling, and he's looking frantically through the kitchen for the big knife, until he realizes that the voice is Kurt's.

He sits on the couch, listening to the bitterness the leaves her mouth, barely flinching at the ugly words, his heart wrenching when he listens to her dry, heaving sobs.

Kurt doesn't leave the room until it's almost midnight, jumping in surprise when he sees Finn looking at him from the couch. Their gazes hold for a second, before his brother smiles weakly at him.

He can't find the strength to smile back.

Xxx

_"Daddy! Daddy, look!" she yells as she runs, pulling on his hand impatiently when she looks back at him, excitement lighting up her beautiful face. He laughs, allowing himself to be pulled along until they reach the edge of the lake and she jumps on the balls of her feet._

_Penelope loves ducks. It's her 'favoritest animal in the whole wide world ever', ever since Rachel came home one day with 10 Little Rubber Ducks and he spent the rest of the night reading it out loud over and over until she fell asleep._

_"Daddy! Look at the baby," she calls out, and he smiles, squatting down to level with her, holding out the bag of bread crumbs Rachel had prepared for their little outing this morning. "Isn't it cute?"_

_"It's a beauty honey," he says affectionately, tugging softly on a lock of her hair. "Just like you."_

_She turns to beam at him. She looks so much like Rachel it's ridiculous, and she couldn't possibly be more perfect in his eyes. Rachel says that their daughter is a perfect combination of them both, but all he sees when he looks at her is his wife, and he's completely fine with that._

_"That's her mommy," Penny tells him, pointing out to the duck at the front of the line. He feigns ignorance, settling down on the ground completely as she proceeds to tell him the names of each of the seven ducklings while they wait for Rachel to show up._

_All in all, it's a pretty fantastic Sunday morning._

Xxx

He drops the remote while he's changing the channel, and in his haste to reach down for it, he kicks it under the sofa. Sighing loudly, he gets on his knees, sliding his arm underneath the couch to get it. His fingers brush against an object, curling around it before he pulls it out.

It's a rubber duck.

He drops it like it's hot iron, burning through his flesh.

All at once he sees her on the couch, giggling as she watches the Saturday morning cartoons, milk dribbling down her chin when she laughs just a little too loudly. He shakes his head, turning off the television as he makes his way into the bedroom. Rachel's in the toilet. He can hear the running water as he lies on his back, eyes wide, breathing erratic.

He's falling apart, and there's nothing he can do about it.

Xxx

"What happened?" her voice is quiet in the dark, and there's a world of space in the five inch gap between them. "What happened today?"

He wants to tell her. He wants to say, "I found her duck under the couch. You know, Patti? Remember how Penny cried for days because she thought she left her at the park? She's been under the couch the whole time."

A multitude of words and sentences run through his mind.

"Everything is so fucked up," and "I miss you," and "I miss her," and "Help me. God, please help me, 'cause I'm falling apart and I can't do this without you. I need you Rachel."

"Nothing," he says quietly. "Nothing Rach."

Xxx

It's three in the morning when he quietly makes his way out the bedroom door, taking three steps to the left in that familiar route that leads to the next room. His hand reaches out for the doorknob, and he closes his eyes, his forehead falling against the door with a soft thud.

He takes a deep breath, in, and out, willing himself to turn the knob with his eyes closed tight. The room smells musty, and when he opens his eyes, he sucks in a harsh breath. Her small sweater is still laid out on her bed. It's purple, with yellow and white flowers all over it. Kurt bought it for her, and she had worn it for days before Rachel could finally coax her to wear a different jacket.

His fingers brush against the fabric, feeling the soft wool rubbing against his skin before he picks it up, crushing it against his chest.

He falls asleep on Penelope's bed, curling himself into a ball, her sweater fisted in his hands.

xxx

It's been two months.

They're still drifting. Together, or alone he can no longer tell. He had a nightmare yesterday, an he woke up trashing, heart drumming furiously in his chest, the sound of Penny calling his name ringing in his ears.

It's always the same dream. It's always the three of them, walking hand in hand with Penelope between them. She always wants pancakes, because "mommy makes the best chocolate chip pancakes", and they swing her between them. And always, always, the scene changes, and suddenly he's in the hospital again, running through the halls to find Rachel at the end of the hallway, eyes wide with blood everywhere, on her shirt, her hands, her shoes.

"Finn," she calls when she sees him, his name raw and hoarse coming from her lips.

The scene changes again, and Penelope lies on her back. She looks like she's just sleeping. He leans closer, tears falling rapidly as his hand caresses her face, and suddenly her eyes snap open.

It always starts with a whisper.

"Help me daddy."

But he doesn't know how to. He never does, and until she's screaming the words, her small body so deathly still, that's when he wakes up, sweat sticking to his back, her name dying on his lips.

He leans against the shower wall, scalding hot water beating on him as he tries to push the memories away. He wonders if he screams when he sleeps, the way he screams in his dreams.

He wonders if Rachel hears.

Xxx

He can't live like this. Kurt tells him this, his mom tells him this. Santana doesn't say a word, but for the first time in her life, she learns to be tactful. And when she shows up one night, quietly asking if she could talk to Rachel, he lets her in. He sits on the couch, listening to the muffled voices that come from the closed bedroom door.

He falls asleep on the couch, and a warm hand against his face wakes him. Santana sits next to him as he straightens up, wiping the drool off his face. She puts a hand on his thigh, squeezing it as she speaks.

"You should talk to her."

"I've tried."

"You need to try harder."

Xxx

"Rachel."

Her back is turned to him. She doesn't move, but he knows she's awake. Tentatively, he reaches out, his fingers barely grazing her side before he pulls away again.

"Rachel."

"What?"

"We should talk."

He sees her body stiffening, and there's a lifetime of silence before she finally speaks.

"About what?"

"Us. Pen-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

He feels the ire creeping up underneath his skin. This is where he usually gives up. This is where they continue to drift. But he can't do that anymore. He needs to move on, he _needs_ to be okay.

He needs her.

Determinedly, he puts his hands on her again, reaching out to touch her waist, trying to turn her to face him.

"Rachel. We have to."

"No. We don't."

"For God's _sake_, Rachel. We need-"

He stops talking when she pulls away from him, the force of her body causing her to fall to the floor. He sits up in alarm, hurrying to help her, but she's already on her feet, her eyes wild as she looks at him.

"I don't want to talk about her," she tells him, her voice quivering. He feels white hot anger burning his veins as he looks at her.

"Penelope," he says quietly, voice even. It cuts through her like a knife, he can see it from the way she shuts her eyes. "You never say her name."

"Stop it Finn."

"We called her Penelope, and she was beautiful-"

"Stop!"

"And she was perfect. She was our sunshine. She was my sunshine-" he continues, standing up from the bed. Rachel shakes her head profusely, clapping her hands over her ears as she shuffles back.

"She was our perfect little angel, and now she's gone-" A sob escapes her at his shaky words and he moves closer.

"And now she's gone, and there's a _hole_ in my heart Rachel. There's a hole in my heart where she's supposed to be, and I don't know-"

"_Don't_."

"_Feel_, Rachel!" he yells, pulling her hands away as he looms over her. Tears are leaking out of her eyes, falling down her face. She refuses to look at him, turning away when he leans down. He hasn't touched her in what feels like forever, and her skin burns against his, and he almost pulls away. He rests his forehead against hers instead.

"_Talk_ to me," he pleads. "Please, Rachel."

Her loud sobs echo against the room, and he feels them go right through him, tearing down his walls when she sags against him.

"I _can't_," she chokes out.

"You have to," he says, holding her tighter as he feels his own tears slipping. "We have to. We can't do this-"

"Finn-"

"I _can't_ lose you too." The words that leave him hit him right in the chest, the all too acute realization of what's happening between them. He's losing her. She's shaking in his arms, trembling so violently he would have been worried if it isn't for the fact that he's trembling too, just as violently.

Xxx

"It's my fault," she whispers, her voice hoarse, hours later when he's on the floor, leaning against the wall as she leans against him.

"No."

"It is. It's my fault. We should have just waited for you. I shouldn't have taken the car. She would have been mad that we're late, but she'd be alive, wouldn't she? It's my fault. I didn't want to be late for her recital, and I took the car, and she died. It's my fault."

"No, no. Rachel, it was an accident-"

"Do you blame me?" She pushes away from him, looking up at him with her tear filled eyes, studying the shock on his face.

"_No_!" he says loudly, shaking his head. "No. Rachel, I would never-"

"Sometimes when you look at me, I think I see the hate in your eyes," she tells him quietly. "When I close my eyes, you come up to me, and you keep asking me, over and over. "How could you do this Rachel? How could you kill her?". Sometimes-"

"Rachel _no_," he whispers urgently, pulling her against him again. "It's not your fault. It's- it's- I don't blame you. I don't."

"Then why can't you touch me?" she cries, her voice muffled against his chest. He stiffens when she pulls away, the pain evident from every part of her. "You wouldn't touch me, you wouldn't look at me. It's like you couldn't bear to be in the same room with me-"

"_No_."

"What was that?"

Her gaze demands an answer, but he doesn't have one.

"I don't know. But I know it's not because of you. It's not-"

He stops, taking a deep breath.

"I see her everywhere, you know? She's everywhere in this house, everywhere I turn. And when I look at you, all I saw was her. God, Rachel, she looked _exactly_ like you. You say that she looked like me too, but she didn't. She was all you, and it killed me. It killed me when I know that I'll never get to see her again. I-"

"She had your sense of humor," she cuts in, an almost smile gracing her features. "And she walked like you. She may look like me, but inside she was all you. I see her everywhere too Finn. I see her when I look at you, and- you don't realize this, but sometimes that's all I do. I look at you to get a glimpse of her."

Xxx

"I'm sorry," he whispers against her ear. Her hands are gripping his arm, and they tighten at his apology. He feels her nodding her head.

"Me too."

Xxx

They come back together slowly, picking up their broken pieces together. It's hard and it hurts, but he holds on tight to her.

He refuses to drift away.

Xxx

She sings again for the first time a month later.

He's in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and she's right outside, fluffing up the pillows as she gets ready for bed.

He hears her quiet hum and his breath gets caught in his throat. He stops what he's doing, placing the toothbrush on the counter as he listens to her. She breaks out into song. It's a nursery rhyme, Penny's favorite. He waits for the pain to come through, but it doesn't. He smiles to himself.

Her voice is just as beautiful as he remembered.

Xxx

They kiss for the first time five days later. She's cooking dinner, swaying quietly to a beat in her head as he watches from the kitchen counter. Her hips swivel sensuously as she hums, and he pushes himself off the counter, quietly walking up to her. She starts when his hands slide along her hips to still her, pulling her back against him.

"Hi," he whispers against her ear, his fingers drumming against the patch of skin between her shorts and shirt. He feels her shiver, smiling quietly into her hair.

"Hi," she whispers back. He watches as she turns off the stove, turning in his arms until she's facing him, looking up with a matching smile. He leans down without a word, brushing his lips softly against hers. Once, twice, before he deepens the kiss, trapping her bottom lip with his, opening his mouth when he feels her tongue hesitantly touching his lips.

She pulls away first, breathless, as she buries her head against his chest, her fingers curling into his shirt. He leans down to kiss the top of her head.

"Dinner smells good."

xxx

She reaches out for him after a nightmare, apology after apology leaving her lips in the darkness while he finds his bearings. He wraps his arms around her when her words become clearer.

"Sssh," he whispers. "Baby it's not your fault. It's okay Rachel."

She doesn't stop apologizing, incoherent words leaving her mouth while the tears pour down her face, and he does the only think he could think of to make her stop. He kisses her.

Sliding his lips over hers, he kisses her insistently, unwinding his arms from around her to rest under the seam of her pajamas. She calms down a few minutes later, when he gently pushes her down on the bed, his body resting over hers.

"Finn," she whispers, his name a talisman to keep all the bad thoughts away.

"I'm here," he whispers against her jaw. "I'm right here."

Her fingers move from the waistband of his pants to graze up his back, pulling his shirt up along with her and he pulls back, gazing down tenderly at her when he pulls it off completely. She looks up at him, her gaze blazing as desire and need color her eyes and he leans back down, crushing their lips together, his fingers trailing up her sides to pull against the button of her pajamas. He reaches the last one, pulling back once again to push the garment away, and Rachel arches her back, allowing him to pull it off her.

She lays under him, her fingers scratching almost nonchalantly against the skin above his pants.

"I miss you," she murmurs quietly, and he leans down again, pressing his lips against her collarbone, trailing downwards.

"I miss you too," he murmurs against her breast, his nose nudging against her nipple as she lets out a low moan that tightens the muscles in his stomach. Her nails rake against his back as he lowers his lips, moving down her bellybutton until he reaches the drawstrings of her pajama pants. She shifts, pulling her legs up higher, her heels resting on the mattress as he sits up, fingers playing with her drawstrings, tracing the shape of her makeshift bow, until her own hand moves over him, pulling the strings apart in one fluid motion.

"I want to feel you," she whispers when he slides back up to kiss her lips. "I want to feel you again."

He doesn't say another word, but he pushes his pants down, one hand sliding under her pajama bottoms, sliding against her center as she squirms under him.

"Finn," she gasps, pushing her garment down, reaching behind him to pull him close. "Please."

He nods quietly against her chest, resting his forehead against her when he feels her fingers wrap around him. He groans, letting her take control, allowing her to align them. But he stops her wrist when she pulls him closer, pulling his head up to shake his head. She looks up at him questioningly, and he leans down to kiss her again.

"I love you," he whispers as he pushes into her, swallowing her moans with another kiss. Their hands find each other, fingers intertwining as he pulls them up over their heads to rest on her pillow. He feels the heat of her tears sliding against his cheeks and pulls away, pulls out almost completely before he pushes back into her again.

"I love you too," she tells him, a small, beautiful smile growing on her face, and he wonders how it's possible to keep falling in love with the same person all over again.

Xxx

She's not beside him when he wakes up, and there's a moment of panic that seizes him as he jolts up, reaching for his pants on the floor.

His heart nearly stops when he finds her, three steps to the left from their bedroom. He sees her on Penny's bed, her robe wrapped loosely around her as she goes through their daughter's baby book. She looks up at the sound he makes from deep in his throat. Rachel smiles up at him, silently patting the empty space next to her.

He shuffles inside slowly, sitting next to her to look over her shoulder. He stares at the tiny print of Penelope's baby feet. Rachel turns a page, and he's seeing his daughter again, at just two weeks old, the tiniest person he had ever seen. He grins.

"She was so small," he murmurs. "Just like you. She fit into the palm of my hand."

She nods, leaning back against him while he rests his jaw on her shoulder.

"She was beautiful."

"The most beautiful thing in the world," he agrees. His arm snakes around her, reaching for the book to thumb through to the next page. "Look," he whispers, pointing to a picture of Rachel, sitting on her rocking chair with Penelope in her arms. She looked exhausted, but she was smiling, love radiating out of her as she looked down at the bundle in her arms. "I think this is my favorite picture."

"Penelope," Rachel whispers, her hand joining his to rest on the page. "She was perfect, wasn't she?"

"Yeah."

"I miss her," she says quietly. She's crying. He knows because there's a teardrop on his arm.

"I miss her too," he says, his voice choked up, the burn in the back of his eyes insistent.

"We'll be okay though, won't we?" she asks, turning away from the album to look up at him. She's smiling through her tears. "She's our guardian angel now, you know."

He's not sure about the sound that leaves his throat, whether it's a chuckle or a sob, but he leans forward to capture her lips, kissing her softly.

"She is."

Xxx

_His eyes flutter open by degrees. There's a creak in his neck that he can't seem to shake off. The hospital chair could possibly be the worst place ever to sleep in. Rolling his shoulders, Finn's view finally comes into focus._

_Rachel's awake, sitting up in the hospital bed, a bundle of pink blankets in her arms. She's singing, a song he's familiar with, because ever since Rachel stumbled upon it during her pregnancy, it was practically the only thing she sang._

_"Penny and me like to roll the windows down, turn the radio up, push the pedal to the ground. Penny and me like to gaze at starry skies, close our eyes and pretend to fly. It's always Penny and me tonight."_

_He grins. She still hasn't noticed him, too engrossed in their daughter to realize that he's awake. Not that Finn could blame her. Penelope is the most perfect person in the whole entire world, he's pretty sure. He shifts, and Rachel looks up, smiling warmly at him._

_"Daddy's awake," she tells Penny. "Looks like he finally decided to join us Penny."_

_He stands, walking to the bed to sink down next to his wife, his arms circling her carefully. _

_"Good morning," he mumbles into her hair. He turns to his daughter. Her eyes are closed, her breathing even, which was a far cry from yesterday when she was screaming her head off. "Good morning Penny."_

_They sit quietly for a few moments, and he rests his head on top of Rachel's, content with the silence._

_"She's perfect," Rachel whispers. "Isn't she?"_

_"She is. You're perfect too, you know," he continues teasingly. She giggles, leaning back against him._

_"So are you. We're all perfect together."_

_He grins. They are. They're perfect together, him and his girls._

_"Welcome to the family Penny," he murmurs, chuckling when her daughter's eyes flutter at his words, before closing again. She's glad to be home._

* * *

**A/N: Lyrics to Penny and Me by Hanson. P/s: A review does a happy author make ;p_  
_**


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